


Convalescence

by Theoroark



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Hotels, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Informal Medical Procedures, patching up, some descriptions of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 16:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14115861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: After Sombra is injured during a mission, Widowmaker takes it on herself to take care of her.





	Convalescence

It was bound to happen eventually. But she finally translocated a moment too late.    
  
She had heard the turret whirr back to life, but the data she was stealing was invaluable. And she knew she was fast. And so her greed and her pride meant that the instant before she disappeared, a searing pain sprung through her calf.    
  
She had left her beacon in Widowmaker's nest, as was their tradition. When she appeared, Widow did not acknowledge her presence until ten seconds had passed filled not with Sombra's typical flirtatious teasing, but only her heavy breathing. Then, she looked down from the scope of her gun, and then she deactivated her visor and stared at Sombra, frowning.    
  
Sombra attempted a grin, but she imagined it was much more of a grimace. "Hope things went better one your end."   
  
"They have." Widow knelt down and craned her neck over Sombra's lap, towards the wound. Sombra followed her gaze– there was a bloody hole in her leggings and the glint of the bullet embedded in her muscle. Just visible at the edge of the torn fabric was her cybernetic skin, flickering a glitchy pattern as it attempted to make sense of its lost signal. Widow sighed.    
  
"It's a fairly superficial wound. I could remove the bullet and treat it with the nanobiotics we have on ship. But healing would still be slow, and you'd be at risk for infection. Your best bet is to go straight to the med bay."    
  
"Yeah," Sombra said, evenly. "I know. But do you think I have to?"   
  
Widow met her eyes and for a minute, she was unreadable. Then she sighed and pulled her holovid off her waist.    
  
"If she comes calling, I'm blaming you," she said, as she signaled for the ship.    
  
-   
  
There was no one on the ship except for the pilot. And they were an unthreatening grunt, someone utterly nameless who surely knew Sombra and Widow's names. So they said nothing as Widow dug the bullet out of Sombra's leg with her knife.    
  
As soon as the ball was out, Widow placed the nanobot on the wound and activated it. Then she wound a cotton bandage around the calf and tied it tightly. Sombra hissed as the nanobot bumped in and out of the surface of her skin, but she had had plenty of surgery before, professional and otherwise– the sensation was almost familiar at this point. Widow stood and walked towards the cockpit.    
  
"Where are we going?" Sombra called after her.    
  
"I know a place," was all she replied.    
  
-   
  
"Everyone knows this place," Sombra said as they landed on the roof of the Waldorf Astoria. Widow shrugged ambivalently.    
  
"She'd find us in a second at the Chateau," she said. "But I saw no reason to lower my standards." She stood again– Sombra quickly struggled to right herself as the shoulder she had been leaning on disappeared. "It's the off season, so you should have no problem getting us in."   
  
Sombra sighed and took the hand Widow offered her, flinching as the barest bit of weight was put on her leg. "Whatever you say, Danielle."   
  
-   
  
The staff probably did not wholly trust them, not when one of them was still bleeding and one of them was blue. But Sombra paid twice the normal rate, on account of the "inconvenience." So they were quietly and discreetly shown to their rooms.    
  
"This is almost a city worth coming to, now," Widow said as she stared out the window. From her careful pillow arrangement– half under her head, half under her leg, turning the rest of her body into a hammock– Sombra groaned.    
  
"Shut up."   
  
"That was a compliment!" Widow said. Sombra rolled her eyes and from the quirk of her mouth, she knew Widow did not have to turn from the skyline to receive the sentiment. "When I toured here with my troupe, there were maybe five blocks on the upper west side that were decent. Everything else was construction sites or tent cities. It seems the former is starting to pay off, and I don't see any of the latter."   
  
"I think they'd keep the poor out of view of here," Sombra pointed out. Widow hummed in agreement, her mouth flattening into something neutral again. "And North America was hit hard by the Crisis. Well, Canada did okay, I guess," she amended. "But here, the Southwest, Mexico– it was brutal."   
  
"You're right, I suppose." Widow turned from the window and sat down at the edge of the bed, next to Sombra. "But I did intend it as a compliment."   
  
"Well, you're awful at those."   
  
"Mmm." Widow lay down next to Sombra and gathered her nearest hand in hers, brushing a kiss against her knuckles. "I'll keep that in mind."   
  
-   
  
Sombra slept fitfully that night. Part of it could be ascribed to the fact that with her leg, she could not turn or fidget nearly as much as she was accustomed to. But her habit of sleeping next to Widow had already started to inure her to limited mobility, and she was sleeping next to Widow here. She just had always been an insomniac, and that day's events had worn through her few defenses against it.    
  
"It's cleaning and healing," Widow informed her as she unwrapped and redressed her wound. Sombra nodded and drummed her fingers against the comforter.    
  
"Sweet. So, you think I can take a shower now?"   
  
Widow frowned. "I don't want this getting wet. And you shouldn't be standing that long, anyway."   
  
"You could join me, you know. Supervise."   
  
"Mold is not nearly the aphrodisiac you seem to think it is."   
  
"Well, I just came off a mission. I've been sweating and shit. You really want to deal with that for however long this takes?"   
  
"Mmm." Widow languorously rolled away from Sombra and got up, stretching like a cat, her plush robe hiking up her thighs. "Give me a minute." Sombra flopped back down onto her pillows, her mind still fuzzy from sleep. The curtains were drawn and the only light was from the frosted lamp on the bedside table. She listened to the sound of Widow rustling in the bathroom and closed her eyes.    
  
A moment later, she woke with a start as a mist descended on her. "Widow! What the hell?!"   
  
"It's Guerlain." Widow presented her with the bottle like a shopping channel model. Sombra stared up at her incredulously. "Now you smell quite nice."   
  
"This is too French, even for you." Widow sat back down on the bed and wafted the scent towards her. Sombra wrinkled her nose and kicked at her with her good leg, still under the covers.    
  
"I can't just stay in here all day," she told Widow. "I'll go batshit." Widow hummed.    
  
"This place has approximately 300 security cameras throughout the premises. Would looking at those help pass the time?"   
  
"Ha." Sombra projected and interface and Widow settled down next to her. Her robe slipped off her shoulder. "We could make an afternoon of it, at least."   
  
-   
  
Some time after their room service lunch, Sombra drifted off. When she woke, the setting sun was sending a flare of orange through a crack in the curtain, and her projection was splayed across Widow's lap. She snapped it shut and lifted her head off Widow's shoulder. She had left a spot of drool on the robe. Widow turned and looked down on her mildly.    
  
"Feel any better?"   
  
"A bit." It wasn't quite true. She felt groggy in the way sleeps that were too long to be naps and too short to be rests always left her. The pain in her leg was a deeper burn than it had been when she drifted off. The walls of the hotel room felt tighter than ever. But Widow would never let her out if she told her all that.    
  
"Good." Widow pulled the comforter off Sombra's lap and shimmied down to her calf. "I need to change the bandages." Sombra nodded, choosing to look at the security cameras instead of Widow. But when Widow stopped moving after she undressed the wound, she looked down.    
  
"Oh," she said. There was a thick clump white pus around the nanobot. She looked up at Widow, who had a small frown on her face.    
  
"There's not much," she said. "It could be nothing. But it could be something." She pried the wet nanobot out of Sombra's leg, and wiped it down. Sombra bit her lip as the sting of disinfectant dripped into the cut.    
  
"It's not something yet, though," she said through gritted teeth. "So..."   
  
Widow nodded. She wrapped clean bandages around her calf. "Let's order dinner."   
  
-   
  
Sombra slept even worse that night. Now, on top of her immobility and nerves, the numbness in her leg was replaced by a persistent ache. She lay there, eyes wide, Widow snoring softly next to her.    
  
So she was awake when an incoming call from Moira flashed on her holovid.    
  
"Shit," Sombra muttered. She had turned her network connectivity off originally, but turned it back on to access the live feeds. She was getting sloppy. Widow stirred in the bright purple light, blinking lazily at first, then eyes wide open. She sat up stiffly.    
  
"You may as well take it," she said. "She'll just keep calling." There was no disappointment or anger in her voice, and nothing could have made Sombra feel worse.    
  
"Yeah." She took Widow's hand, and answered, voice call only. Moira's profile and a timer popped up on screen.    
  
"Where have you been?" Moira asked. Sombra tapped her fingers against the comforter.    
  
"And hello to you too, doc. I've been fine, thanks for asking."   
  
"Captain Rossi said you were shot," Moira said, her voice clipped. "And so I do not need to ask how you are doing. I know. Why didn't you come back to base?"   
  
Sombra glanced around the hotel room, at the trays of room service and the medical supplies on the side table.    
  
"Felt like a vacation, I guess," she said. Over the call, Moira sighed.    
  
"I need to clear you for duty. You need to come back to base."    
  
"Fine." Her drumbeat on the comforter increased in tempo. "I'll charter a ship."   
  
"Good." Moira paused for a moment. "Rossi said Lacroix went with you. Is she there?"    
  
Sombra felt, not saw, Widow tense up. She squeezed her hand. "She's out somewhere," she said. Her tone did not shift. She had lied for far more and far less than this. "You need me to pass something along?"   
  
"Yes," Moira said. "Tell her she needs to come to the medbay as well." She hung up and Sombra stared at her profile and the timer, flashing just under a minute.    
  
Widow was still tensed up next to her. She turned. "Are you okay?" she asked.    
  
"Fine," Widow said. Her tone did not shift, but she was never quite as good a liar. She leaned over Sombra and took her holovid on her, and set it on the bedside table. Sombra stared as Widow rolled on top of her, carefully avoiding her injured leg.    
  
"Let's just try to enjoy the time we have left," she murmured into Sombra's ear. Sombra felt Widow's smile against her cheek when she reached up and untied her robe.    
  
-   
  
When Sombra woke that morning, she was exhausted and her leg burned. Just the act of sitting up hurt, and when she pulled the covers away she saw the nanobot lumped up against the bandages. She looked to her side. Widow was not in bed.    
  
"Widow?" There was a light on in the bathroom. "Widow!" There was no response. Sombra scooted down the bed, wincing. "Hey, I know it's gross, but I need your help with my leg."   
  
"I can't, Sombra," came Widow's voice, muffled behind the closed door. At the edge of the bed, Sombra frowned.    
  
"Why not?"   
  
There was a silence, and then the door opened, slowly and jerkily at first, and then with a bang as Widow kicked it open the rest of the way. She stepped out into the main room with her hands up like a surgeon who had just scrubbed down. Sombra squinted at her but in the dim light, she did not notice her fingers until Widow was standing right in front of her.    
  
"What...?" Widow laughed, a caustic sound, and wiggled her yellow fingertips in the air.    
  
"Gangrene," she said. "You slow a person's heart, you get a good sniper. But you also get dead tissue, unless there's constant maintenance." She sat down next to Sombra, her hands falling in her lap. "Here, I missed maintenance. It's, ah, not sanitary for me to work on it now, and it ah, hurts."   
  
"Okay," Sombra said softly. She placed a hand on Widow's shoulder, but Widow's eyes did not move from her hands in her lap. "Is that what Moira meant, when she said...?"   
  
"Yes." Widow looked up now, with a quick jerk of her head, and Sombra was surprised by the ferocity in her eyes. "That's why I didn't want you going back, Sombra, and I know that's why you didn't want to go back either. I don't want her doing this to you. She has Reyes on a leash and me on a leash and I don't want her to get you too. I refuse to let her get you too. I don't care if all my limbs fall off, Sombra–"   
  
"Hey." Sombra moved her hand from Widow's shoulder to her back and rubbed small circles. Widow closed her eyes. "I don't want that either, okay? And between you and me, I think we can make sure that doesn't happen."   
  
"Okay," Widow said softly. Her eyes were back on her hands and there was a lump in Sombra's throat.    
  
"And Widow, I–" The fingers curled in on themselves, not quite touching the palm. "I'm looking into it Widow, I promise, both of you but especially you– I'm going to find something, I know it, this isn't forever–"   
  
"It's okay, Sombra." Widow laid a hand on her cheek. "It's enough. You're enough."   
  
Sombra wrapped her arms around her and ducked her head against Widow's hair. Widow hesitated, and then laid her hand on Sombra's back and moved it in slow, soft circles, her fingertips bent away.    
  
-   
  
The staff seemed relieved to see them go, even if it meant a suspicious looking drop ship landing on their roof. Sombra took a look at the mess of dirty bandages next to the bed, and left all the bills in her wallet on the dresser for the housekeeping staff.    
  
"I'll stay with you the whole time," Widow said, as they waited on the rooftop. "I won't let her put you out. I'll tell her I want to improve my field medical skills or something."   
  
"That might work," Sombra said. She linked their arms. "Thanks, Widow."   
  
"Well, don't thank me yet, she might be an ass about it, it certainly wouldn't out of character–"   
  
"No, I mean– thank you for all of this." There was a shadow overhead and the air around them was beginning to stir, but Sombra still leaned up and kissed Widow's cheek. "This was... nice, somehow. And you didn't have to do this."   
  
"Of course I did," Widow replied. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the landing ship, but it traveled down Sombra's spine like a whisper. "I'll never let you be hers, because you're mine."

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the OW Femslash Exchange, a gift for @paintedpchydrm on tumblr– I hope you liked it!
> 
> I'm @tacticalgrandma on tumblr if you want to talk to me there.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and any comments/kudos would mean the world to me <3


End file.
